Welcome

Ahoy Matey, and Welcome to REPTIRE, an intermittent ‘ship’s blog’, chronicling the slow rise in the South Easterly skies of Reptire Designs; a studio that designs and crafts always artful, and sometimes useful THINGAMABOBS from old Indian Cucachou, aka ReTired Rubber.

Down Below, Ye shall find a permanent 'flagship post' marking the Maiden Voyage of Reptire Designs.

And below that, in the ‘hull’, can be found more recent posts chronicling the daring new adventures of Reptire Designs, dashed with small bits of whimsy, spotted pickerel, local color, and lizard lore..

In fact, on the right, in pale purple, ye shall find the Captain's Log’s Table of Previous Posts, which ye can peruse by year, month, and title to ye hearts content.

If ye haven't gotchyer sea legs yet, My Pretty, Ye can take a gander at our website at www.reptiredesigns.com, to get a proper Landlubber's Introduction.

Thanks for stopping in, I do hope you enjoy your visit aboard this ship! HARHARHARHAR.......

Sincerely, Travius Von Cohnifus

Captain, Founder, Indentured Servant, Rubber Alligator Wrestlor Extraordinaire a' this here ship.

enter the treadknot

Welcome
On September 26th, 2006, I launched my tire art/design business, Reptire Designs, with a solo exhibition of my artwork in The Green Gallery at The Scrap Exchange Center for Creative Reuse, in Durham, NC. For many reasons, it was a night that I will always remember, and I am grateful to Laxmi (my girlfriend at the time) and Edie (my mother, still) for dutifully documenting while I shmoozed, so that I may now shmare a taste of the evening with anyone who was not able to attend...



On a cool but lively autumn night-before-Center Fest, a stream of friends and curious strangers trickled (like pebbles through a rain stick) through the forest of odds and ends (that roost at night in The Scrap Exchange), out into the warm light of the back savanna, a scene utterly glopped with bizarre rubbery hybrids. Tentative and curious, the visitors craned their necks, nibbled, pecked, stood back, moved in closer. From the walls, glassy mirror eyes gazed back through black unblinking eyelids, while beneath the visitor's feet, in a steamy drainage cistern, a mortal drama unfolded. Primordial forms, with no eyes at all, sat puckered on stoops. A cascade of glittering steal droplets formed a curtain, to which clung a colony of tiny tire knotlettes.

Vito D., a long-time collabator down from the Asheville area, caressed the warming air with his Strange Little Folk music. I bobbed and I flit, and at an increasing clip-someone must have opened the faucet a bit....for soon I was swooning, I just about lost it! As the evening progressed, to my delight and amazement, 'family' from Durham, Chapel Hill, Pittsboro, Hillsboro, Siler City, Asheville, and Fresno all made it! From the Cohn Clan to the Steudel Clan to the CFS Clan; from the WWC Clan to the Duke Ac Pub Clan to the SAF Clan; from the Bike Shop Clan to the Ninth St. Clan to the Scrap Clan... and every one in between, guys, they were all appearing before my stunned, blinking eyes. While I spun and I splayed, Vito now played-CHURNED- up a torrent of gritty ditties; while a staff volunteer (Brandon's a photographer, I swear) whipped up pitchers of Mango Lassies. And The 'Scrap Exchange girls' worked the door, the counter, and the floor, going "cha-CHING!", cha-CHING!","cha-CHING!".!.



By the end of the night, hundreds of friends, acquaintances and had-been-strangers had poured in, poured over the work, and partaken in, what was for me and my art, a monumental communal feast. And on top of it all, I got to place many of my preemies in hands that I love and trust, and in several instances, hands that fit them like gloves. What a privilage to be able to connect with people this way. Heading into the turbid seas of small business, I can confidently say that if I drown tomorrow, I am at least blessed today with the memory of (as Vito later put it) one authentically good Durham night.



Thanks to all of you who were there; in body and/or spirit.





Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange

Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange
I can't think of anything more rewarding for an artist than to see someone interacting with their artwork. Photo by Laxmi Haynes

Sammy and Dannette contemplate

Sammy and Dannette contemplate
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Cascade Colony of Knotlets

Cascade Colony of Knotlets
They would go with your jacket, would they not Claire?

Laxmi Resplendent

Laxmi Resplendent

Mavis In The Mist

Mavis In The Mist
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Tire Amazement

Tire Amazement
Photograph by Edie Cohn

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

RECLAMATION: Securing Supplies

Before I could really get down to work creating pieces for the show, I had to undertake a very important step, and that was to secure sources of various needed supplies.
Namely, these were:

  1. Tires- Bicycle and motorcycle, and farm impliments if I could find them...
  2. Hardware
  3. Random Junk- Scrap wood, fabric, etc...
Fortunately for me, Norfolk yielded all three of these with ease.

MOTORCYCLE TIRES
My first score was Triumph Motorcycle shop, on Little Creek Road.

There, Brian graciously gave to access to his pile of tires out back, and I got some good ones from him. He also showed me about the coolest, most unussual tire I have ever seen- this beach tire, imported from So Cal, mounted on the back of this beach cruiser. Highly unique!





BICYCLE TIRES
For bicycle tires, I was very fortunate to find East Coast Cycles, up on Granby, at Ocean View. 
There I met John, who would become one of my favorite people in this adventure. A stalwart and enthusiastic supporter of my efforts, John opened not only his tire piles to me, but his entire shop, really going out of his way to make a traveler feel at home. Perhaps as a Navy serviceman, who knew what this means to a stranger in a new town. The gesture certainly meant a lot to me, and I will not forget it.


HARDWARE
For hardware, I was Very fortunate to find Meadowbrooke Hardware, on Little Creek Rd, a small, family owned and operated gem just around the corner. It is becoming such a rarity these days to find such a small and intimate hardware store- we sadly lost ours in Durham to Home Depot many years ago. Siler City is still blessed to retain our Ace. The owner Phill, was really helpful in helping me find all of the many supplies I needed, and the rest of his staff was as well.
Incidentally, Meadow Brook was right next to something of an enigma. I never did find out the story on this one...


'RANDOM JUNK'
As for other random junk, the streets of Norfolk yielded these quite readily also.
On my first commited evening of searching, I came upon quite a mecca: a pile of hurricane debris that the city had allowed its citizens to amass for pick up. This, I thought, was a great use of government!



There I met several intersting people, leaving stuff off, and I also made some innanimate friends there, taking many more than I should have in my car...

One of my favorite recoveries from this reckage was this small chair below.
It was just a small frame, completely intact, besides the missing seat, and cracking red paint, neither of which seemed to matter in the slightest...


...it just seemed to....well, resolute.
So I carried it home. I later would decide this chair was a sort of a mascot for the idea of reclamation- a hero, and a survivor- and I would submit it (alas, unsuccessfully) as a readymade, into the exhibition. I call it "Resolute Chair". While I personally thought it was a shame that this object was not reclaimed, and exhalted, in this exhibtion, I do plan to keep it, and treasure it as such. Or perhaps pass it on to one of a few artists who I know will 'chairish' it as well...

Aside from some nice pieces of salvaged wood, and these bicycle wheels, one little darling that I did find, and successfully make a star of, was the small bird house you see below. 
Perhaps it was the ephemerality rendered unto abodes, that the hurricane Irene had wrought, but amid this wreckage, the small fragile birdhouse seemed all the more precious, and poignant a keepsake, to pull from it. 



Once I took this home, and cleaned it up abit, this would become the centerpiece for "The House That Jack Built", a tribute to that fragile little gem of  house dangled on a string of coast, by its mystical architect, Mrs. Sloane, so that we all may come, and nourish our souls there.